


Good Doctor

by diefakewaluigi



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Coffee, Fluff and Humor, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Trans Male Character, jack bright is neurodivergent..., possible full story?? idk, thearpy, they r silly n dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefakewaluigi/pseuds/diefakewaluigi
Summary: Jack Bright is seen as a very sly, sarcastic guy. But little does everyone know is how many years it took to create that mask, and how easily it can fall apart
Relationships: Jack Bright/Dr. Simon Glass
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	Good Doctor

If Bright had to be anywhere, in this world, this would both be the last and first location he’d pick. 

He has been almost everywhere, too--that’s what working where he does lands you. Traveling across the world and dying over and over, pain and everything--but there is a unique awkwardness about this situation.

The air was hard to breathe, the AC blaring and whatever nonsense they chock in that air to make it clog your lungs filled the room, a sharp cold domesticated wind. A clock chimed off timing, which distracted Bright from everything else in the scene. He had to grab his pants and grit his teeth, each ticking noise filling him with an anger. A soft one, though, but it did pass the line of annoyance.

“Erhm, good doctor?” The lanky man that sat in front of Bright spoke up, his eyes filled with concern. “You’ve been staring at the ground for quite some time. Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?”

Bright shot up, his face flushed with embarrassment but quickly regained his composer. He gave a smirk, not too sure on how convincing it is, but it’s better than being transparent with his shame. Was it too mortfying? No, it wasn’t, but it still was awkward. Quick, Jack thought, sharp subtle breath and keep your eyes wide. Your entire childhood teaching yourself how to talk will not be thrown out the window now.

“The clock.” He spat impulsively, like the words were sour as a lemon on his tongue.

“What about the clock?” Dr. Glass asked, in a way that you’d ask a kid about the monster under their bed. Usually that little tone from people got under his skin, but his voice was...different. Not sure what made him different, but he was different. 

Ever since Dr. Glass walked in these doors, the entire atmosphere of the place changed. A lot of the staff played with him, thinking he was easy to break. Throwing him with SCPs who bend reality, and even Clef gaslighting him for jokes trying to make him fear his life, than taking back any threat he had. But, he was still together--proof shown with him still sitting in front of him, clean shaven and hair styled in the normal bounce he kept it, and eyeglasses that were completely dust-free.

Bright took his own glasses and wiped it off on his maroon sweater. “It’s noise. It feels like a knife stabbing in my head.”

“I..I assure you, from my understanding it’s no ano-”

“No, it has nothing to do with some weird random properties…” He squinted to look at his name tag. “..Simon. I just am sensitive to noise. Think…” He trailed off, snapping his fingers. “Think of a dog. You know how it can hear higher frequencies, yes? Of course you do. Okay, think of that, and apply it to a human level.”

“Are you claiming to have the same acute hearing of a dog, Dr. Bright?”

“No, no, no...bad metaphor. I just. Nevermind,” he started to fiddle with his necklace, playing with the chain. 

“Is it just that it’s too loud, or is it just it’s particular sound?”

“Yes.”

“So, both?” Dr. Glass said, taking out a sticky note. “I sort of drowned it out at this point, but if it is disruptive to you, it must be for my other patients…”

Dr. Bright perked up at the sound of a pen. “What, you’re gonna write in an order for a whole new clock?” He leaned in, elbows on the desk and knocking some papers on the floor. “You know this place, they won’t care.”

“Do you take it as a bad idea if I file in a complaint?”

“Not exactly. But it’s like yelling at a man with headphones in to get off of train tracks, you get it?”

“Well I don’t want one of my favorite clients to feel like he can’t focus, so I want to address it even if you think it’s pointless.”

Bright’s face twisted and he dropped his amulet back to his chest. “Your what client now, good sir?”

Dr. Glass stopped writing halfway and sat in a little bit in shock, deer in headlights expression. He coughed into his fisted hand and forced a dry laugh. “Well, I suppose I spoke too soon, did I now good doctor?”

He only called him that. He picked up, out of all the doctors, he only called him the good doctor. It was a small, probably pointless detail. Hell, it was probably sarcastic, and he just took it genuinely like a fool. But from his voice it was very nice. It felt very, very sweet and nice.

“Good doctor…” He said. “Why’s that?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, not by any means. Just don’t understand why you call me it.”  
“Well, to me, you are very driven. You always come in here and rant and rave about your theories and ideas...you have passion after all this time. I believe that makes you a good doctor.”

“In theory, I suppose. You truly agree with that I’m good, even in execution?”

“Well with what you’re able to do, I do think you do it quite well.”

Dr. Bright nodded, throwing his feet on the desk. Dr. Glass didn’t object, though he would seem like the type to. He simply scooted a bit over, moving his papers with him. Bright unmindully started to move his feet back and fourth and he heard a loud clash and looked down. 

He shot up from the chair and went over to the tissues, grabbing them like it was a fire equinisher. Dr. Glass gave a laugh and placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “No need, it’s just a cup.”

“I’ll replace it, I promise!,” he started to talk when Glass went down and started to clean up the mess. Bright frantically took off his lab coat and threw it where he thought would be the spill, but it rather landed on Glass. 

Dr. Glass stood up and held up the coat. “Now, I know coffee is far from the worse thing to get spilled on this thing, but it seems fairly newly washed and it’d be a shame for you to ruin it. Unless you were trying to give it to me, if so, I already have one of these old things.”

He got up and Bright stood still, and let Glass’ nimble fingers place the coat gently over his shoulders. His hands were warm and gently glided against his neck, causing a shiver despite the heat he radiated. 

Glass went to his desk and went under, pulled out a small cardboard box and took out a towel. “Worse things have been spilled in here and broken, I assure you Dr. Bright.”

“I still should replace at least you drink…” He said, sliding his arms in the coat. 

“Hm.” Dr. Glass looked up, a small smile came on his face. “Well, do you have any off days this week?”

“Sundays I take off, or usually get off early...why?” He asked, perplexed. 

“So you can get me that drink you said you wanted to get me to replace the one you knocked on the floor.” Glass looked up at the clock. “Does noon work for you on Sunday?”

“Well, I don’t think I should be drowning in paperwork then, well if I catch up…” Dr. Bright spoke, adjusting his coat. “I’ll get you that coffee, rest easy…” Bright winked. “Good doctor.”  
“I hate to cut this short, but I’m afraid our session needs to be wrapped up…” Glass said and got up, dusting himself off and throwing the coffee soaked rag up to let it dry. “I promise you the next time you’re here, there will be a new clock Bright, okay? Oh wait, Doctor, I apol-”

“Jack. Jackson only for my momma, Jackie was what the kids bullied with me...to you, it’s Jack.” Glass looked up and smiled and a dusting of pink spread on his pale skin 

“Alright, Jack. Stay safe out there, okay?” Bright ran his fingers through his hair and buttoned his lab coat, and he went to the door.

“No need, safe or not, I’m coming back here.” He said with a chuckle, and closed the door with a small wave.

Believe it or not, it took him an hour to understand that what he was going on wasn’t just him giving back to Glass, but a date.

He wound up puking in the lunchroom trashcan due to the butterflies (figuretive ones this time) in his body.


End file.
